Death by Chocolate
by Copycat
Summary: Following the previous night's revelations Harm decides to take matters into his own hands. Sequel to "Let's Talk About Chocolate".


TITLE: Death by Chocolate  
AUTHOR: Copycat  
E-MAIL: copycat_cliffhanger@hotmail.com  
RATING: PG-13  
CLASSIFICATION: R (Harm/Mac), V - Harm POV  
SPOILERS: I wouldn't know, really. None, I guess.  
SUMMARY: Following the previous night's revelations   
Harm decides to take matters into his own hands.   
Sequel to "Let's Talk About Chocolate".  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue. Please?  
  
  
NOTE: I generally attempt to stay at least within   
spitting distance of the actual characters. So--how   
far can YOU spit?  
  
SECOND NOTE: This thing is NOT what I had in mind   
when I started out, but hey, when do things ever go   
the way you plan?  
  
Feedback makes my day.  
  
  
~^~^~^~  
  
This single-minded fascination I've got  
Do you call it love  
Well, if you don't then what  
All I know is I don't know what you've done  
And this train of thought   
Ain't about to jump the track that it's on  
I know it's crazy callin' you this late  
When the only thing I wanted to say is  
I've been thinkin' about you  
- Trisha Yearwood  
  
~^~^~^~  
  
  
I've been whistling all the way to work. Not even   
DC rush hour traffic could get to me.   
  
But, actually, that's not the strangest thing I did   
this morning.  
  
I made pancakes. Real pancakes with so much maple   
syrup I felt compelled to run 20 miles. Or, I would   
have, if today hadn't been today.  
  
But, the absolute weirdest thing I did today (so   
far) would have to be calling my mom. Not that   
that's something I NEVER do, but it's not something   
I do an awful lot, just because.  
  
All the time we were talking I could hear the smile   
in her voice, but I didn't pay much heed to it till   
she blurted out, out of nowhere: "Harm, honey? Are   
you in love?"  
  
I was slightly taken aback, I'll admit it, but then   
I remembered: Of course she'd know. This is my mom.   
It's self-explanatory.   
  
When we finished our conversation I could hear   
Frank grumbling in the background as she hung up:   
"The next time the boy meets the woman of his   
dreams could he NOT call us up to tell us at 5 am?"   
  
I heard my mom laughing in that 'my-son-did-  
something-right-I'll-forgive-anything-right-now'-  
way that mothers have, saying, "He didn't just MEET   
her, hon--" Then the line disconnected.  
  
She's REALLY good, my mom.   
  
  
At JAG I see HER car already in the parking lot.   
  
When I enter the building I nearly bump into Bud   
who's running around in his characteristically   
absent-minded fashion.   
  
"Hey, there, Lieutenant. You might poke someone's   
eye out with that," I smile, removing the pointer   
he's carrying from the near vicinity of my face.   
What's he doing with that thing anyway?  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," he mumbles. "Excuse me," he   
hurries on.  
  
Most of the time the thought of being inside that   
man's head frightens me, but today I find it   
amusing.   
  
In the kitchen I stumble upon the admiral and Mac.   
I smile warmly in greeting, feeling more than a   
little giddy.  
  
The admiral nods curtly, as an admiral is bound to   
do.   
  
"You look disgustingly chipper this morning," Mac   
complains.  
  
Pouring my coffee I can't help but tease her a   
little. "Unlike someone else I know."  
  
"Well, it wasn't MY fault I didn't get more than   
three hours sleep last night," she rebuffs.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that."   
  
"You didn't sound sorry at three o'clock this   
morning."  
  
She could perhaps have chosen a better way to   
phrase that, I think, as the admiral makes a   
choking sound and hastily puts down his cup.  
  
"Are you okay, sir?" Mac asks padding his back,   
completely oblivious to the reason for his sudden   
discomposure.  
  
He straightens and gives each of us a strange look,   
paying particular attention to Mac's right hand,   
before hastily retreating.  
  
That offending piece of precious jewelry is still   
there, yes. I'll be sure to work on that, sir, I   
promise to myself, smilingly shaking my head at   
Mac. "I'm not sure whether or not it's a good thing   
it was the admiral who heard you say that."  
  
She frowns. "What do you mean?" For such a smart   
person she's not all that clever sometimes.  
  
"Well," I explain parentally, "at least, it being   
the admiral, you won't have just watered the gossip   
mill to keep it running for at least a year, but on   
the other hand, I don't think having the admiral   
question our propriety is all that great."  
  
"Why would he question our propriety?"   
  
"You didn't sound sorry at three o'clock this   
morning," I mimic, admittedly sounding more like   
something out of a porn flick than Mac, but let's   
not go there.  
  
She seems torn between slapping me silly and   
crawling into a hole in the ground. The latter not   
being a real option she settles for whacking me on   
the shoulder. "He didn't think that," she insists.  
  
"Oh, no, for the first time in four years Tiner   
made the coffee too strong," I say, waving at her   
cup for her to taste it.  
  
After having a sip, and carefully tasting it, she   
looks at me. "It's not even very hot," she whines   
pitifully.  
  
I pat her cheek, grandmother-style. "Don't take it   
too hard, Mac, he'll come around." Either that or   
we'll give him a reason not to. I shake my head,   
smiling both at her expression and my own thoughts.   
  
I turn and walk to my office. After a short while I   
hear footsteps behind me and sure enough, as I sit   
down behind my desk, Mac walks in and closes the   
door behind her.  
  
"Don't shut the blinds, Mac, 'cause then there'll   
be nothing we can do."  
  
She ignores me and stays looming by the door.   
"What's wrong with you, Harm?"  
  
"Wrong?" I have the feeling that this goofy smile   
will be permanently plastered on my face.   
  
"You call me up in the middle of the night to talk   
about CHOCOLATE of all things and now you're--well,   
you're acting crazy."  
  
"I had an epiphany of sorts last night," I say,   
offering no further explanation.  
  
"About chocolate?" she asks skeptically.   
  
"Among other things, yeah," I smile.  
  
"And so now you're on some sort of sugar high?"  
  
I tilt my head and grin. "I don't think it's sugar,   
Mac, but if you say so."  
  
She shakes her head in apparent exasperation. "Like   
I said--crazy."  
  
I shrug my shoulders. "We're all a little crazy,   
aren't we, Mac?"  
  
She sighs. "Whatever you say, Harm. Whatever you   
say." She opens the door. "When your sanity catches   
up with the rest of ya I'll be in my office."  
  
With that, she's gone.  
  
I look at my desk and try to decide what I'm   
supposed to be working on today. Picking up a file   
at random I leaf through it and realize that I   
already won this one last week.  
  
Most of the morning is spent as unproductively as   
that, only interrupted by a short visit to the   
admiral's inner sanctum, where I relate the events   
of an Article 32 hearing that I honestly don't   
remember attending.  
  
There is no mention of three o'clock this morning   
and I choose to ignore the coffee stain on his   
shirt.  
  
The admiral lets me off rather quickly. I don't   
know if it's my smug grin or the fact that I'm   
talking complete nonsense, but he dismisses me with   
a loud sigh, mumbling something under his breath   
that I, thankfully, can't hear.  
  
I do hear my stomach rumble, however, and a quick   
glance at my watch tells me it's lunchtime.   
  
I knock on Mac's office door and open it without   
waiting for an answer. "Wanna do lunch?"   
  
She looks at me regretfully. "Can't. Sorry. I have   
plans."  
  
"With Mic?" I ask, feeling a little uneasy. How   
much faith can you really put in fate and chocolate   
bars?  
  
She nods. "He should be here any minute."  
  
I step into her office. "Well, it was just that I   
wanted to talk to you about this new addiction that   
I have," I say, not really knowing what I'm on   
about. "The one that's making me--act crazy."  
  
She shakes her head. "Cold turkey, Harm. That's the   
only way to go," she says. I have the feeling she's   
not taking this too seriously.  
  
I nod, contemplating her suggestion. "Yeah, okay.   
But the thing is: I'm not sure I WANT to stop."  
  
I think now she's saying something about how you   
have to really want it, but that's as far as I can   
follow her little pep-talk, as I've suddenly become   
more fascinated with her mouth itself than the   
words I assume are coming out of it.   
  
I DO. Really want it.   
  
And sometimes you have to just take what you want,   
and forget all about the fact that once upon a time   
in ancient Greece some guy stole another guy's   
woman and it started a war.  
  
I shake my head to get rid if THAT bizarre notion   
and take a few steps forward to close the distance   
between us.   
  
She's still talking a mile a minute, but as I stop,   
my body just inches from hers, I hear a bit of what   
she's saying, and I don't think I'm missing out on   
much.   
  
"Mac?"  
  
She stops talking and tilts her head back to look   
at me. "Mmm?"  
  
My hand, completely of its own volition, I swear,   
reaches up and touches her hair.   
  
Her eyes grow wide and I can see her wondering if   
this is really what she thinks it is.  
  
I nod slightly and then her tongue sneaks out to   
lick her lips and I damn near lose it.   
  
She stretches just a tiny bit and I lean down a   
little. We're so close I can feel her breath in my   
face.  
  
It hits me just then that the blinds are open, but   
I figure this way they're gonna know what they're   
talking about when they're talking. Because they--  
  
That's as far as I get before my mouth is suddenly   
meshed against hers and I don't know how it   
happened, but then it's MY lips her tongue is   
licking and I don't give a rat's ass.   
  
I WAS planning, if I had a plan at all, that is, to   
just kiss her a little, if there is such a thing,   
but that's all forgotten now it seems as my arms   
pull her body closer and her hands are in my hair   
keeping my head in place.  
  
There isn't really room for game plans and chaste   
intentions in my head right now, if you get my   
drift.   
  
Our tongues duel in midair as I fight valiantly to   
get a chance to take stock of her fillings.   
  
All is fair in love and war as they say, and I'm   
not above using a dirty trick or two in a situation   
like this. Not that I've ever been in this   
particular situation before.   
  
But on that note I run my hand down her back and   
plant it firmly on her a--uh--rear, pulling her   
even closer than she was before, if possible.   
  
She relents and my tongue finally enters the dark   
recesses of her mouth.   
  
It can't have been entirely unwillingly, though, I   
gather from the moan that escapes her throat as she   
returns the attack.   
  
Feeling a sudden need for air at that particular   
sound I pull back a few inches, resting my forehead   
against hers.  
  
"About that cold turkey," I say when my breathing   
returns to something resembling normal.   
  
She nods, the movement bumping my head up and down   
as well.  
  
"I'm not interested."  
  
She smiles, looking so incredibly adorable that I   
just HAVE to lean down and plant a quick kiss on   
her lips.  
  
"I'm gonna go see if Bud's more tempted by my offer   
of lunch. Sugar," I smile and leave her office.  
  
And just in time, I think merrily, as the elevator   
doors open and Mic Brumby steps into the bullpen.  
  
Right now, the thought of the two of them having   
lunch doesn't bother me much.  
  
I look at him walking this way and slap my pocket   
to see if the 'present' I got him on my way here   
this morning is still there. Yup.   
  
I smile warmly, more so than I've ever done, I   
think, but I've gathered that's a sort of theme for   
the day. Me smiling, I mean.   
  
He looks at Mac who's still in her office; her feet   
nailed to the floor. Or something. "Hey, mate," he   
says.   
  
Poor guy doesn't see it coming at all.  
  
"Hey," I reply. "Oh, Mic, I've got something for   
you." I grab the little gift in my pocket and toss   
it to him. "Enjoy."  
  
I pad him on the shoulder and walk back towards my   
office. In the doorway I turn around and see him   
standing there, staring at the Hershey bar   
wondering what the hell is going on.  
  
  
THE END  
  
  



End file.
